more and more attention.
In addition to the gay environment in Hasselt and handball in Hechtel, I also still had a nice circle of friends in Wijchmaal. For a while I was “volunteer manager” of a local pop band from Wijchmaal, Pop
Band. I didn't play music myself, but I really liked their style and songs. I was supposed to arrange perfor-mances for them. That generally worked quite well. We often played in youth centers and on free stages. It wasn't a big success, but one single was officially released.
– and then, by sheer coincidence, on the day John Lennon died. We were a nice group of men. I often vis-ited the guitarist's home, Joris, and got along well with his mother. She
one day let slip that her other son, Joris' older brother, was in the Evangelical Church.
I didn't know that Church very well. The Evangelical Church apparently worked somewhat differently than the Catholic. There were no priests or sextons or deans here, but there were Bible study groups that would bring you closer to Jesus
a group of people celebrating their love for Jesus together... This all sounded very attractive. Since I was about 16, my mother told me not to go to Catholic mass anymore and then I stopped. Not that I became completely unbelieving: I often kept thinking about God, and Jesus, and about my place in their hearts, whether as a gay person I even deserved a place in those hearts, I thought
thought so much about the Mystery, I still had a good relationship with Father Johan... There were so many contradictions in the faith, I found it so difficult to think about - let alone find inner peace
to find. I had always been taught and heard that homosexuality is not accepted by the Bible, or by God, or by Jesus. Whenever I thought about that, I kept fighting against myself – it was so very difficult. I wanted so badly to be seen and to be a good person! How was I supposed to do that? I was 27 and the well I had fallen into at 23 beckoned, softly, seductively, with deep blackness... Until I heard that by openly accept-ing Jesus, through your Evangelical baptism, you can be healed of your homosexual feelings. I need that, I thought.
I sat down at the Bible study tables. Together we studied the sacred texts. A friend of mine also partici-pated, but I kept silent about my fears and feelings in all languages. I prayed with the others,
for redemption, for healing. All my sins would be washed away after baptism. I would be purified. I prayed. I prayed to become someone other than who I was. I prayed for healing. The baptism was a real celebration. Many people's friends and family came. Not from me – I hadn't told anyone what I was doing. Many of those present pulled me into their circle, because it was also my party. It was our party. We would all be reborn in the love of Jesus. I would be healed.
The evening after the baptism I arrived home. My inner voice wondered if I was deluding myself.
Would this nowReal, heal my feelings? Would they disappear? We would see. I prayed every night. It took exactly six months. I got homesick for Hasselt. I missed my life as it was – and I missed men. I hadn't changed a bit and I was still gay. When I met men, it was as if I had never been away. I felt guilty toward Jesus and God—but I also realized that even though I had been baptized for the second time, my feelings had not changed at all. What did that mean, then?I took the plunge and quit Bible studies. They saw me as an apostate, but my heart was strengthened. Deep in my heart I still believed in the Mystery and in God's love. I just felt guilty because of the people who spoke in God's names. God loves every created person – that's what they say – including me.
And I left it at that. Years later told Father Johan told me that he had always had suspicions about my ho-mosexuality. He didn't judge me about this. He has always made me feel welcome and that I belonged in a community. The Bible and the Church may have been the background against which everything took place, respect for each other's humanity and were at least as important. I continued to regularly volunteer for his monastic order: it felt good to contribute.
In addition to all the partying and loving, I started to miss something “of myself”. I missed being creative, feeling really useful... Besides my volunteer work, I couldn't really contribute anything, or anything of "myself"
make or have… And that kept nagging. I found a possible way out – at the VRT, on the set of
"At home"! I wanted to do a job there that was normally reserved for students from the RITCS academy - I knew through the grapevine that the VRT wanted to get rid of the students and prefer individual volun-teers or
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